Five Years of Marriage to Mr. Bradford (by Koi Fish) novel Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Back then, Rebecca’s whole heart had been on Vance.

She had arranged his meals meticulously, managed the household with care, and strived to provide him with a warm haven.

Even if he often returned very late, she hoped that as soon as he stepped through the door, he could rest comfortably.

Unfortunately, it seemed he didn’t need any of it.

That was fine. The one he really loved would worry about him.

Rebecca decided to take a shower first, then look up some information about studying abroad before going to bed.

But algorithms were truly annoying, always managing to push content one didn’t want to see right into

view.

She opened the app, and sure enough, Catherine’s new note jumped to the top of her feed.

It was posted just minutes ago, about what had happened that evening. There was a photo of interlocked hands–Vance’s hand holding hers.

The caption read: [He has always been a tower–proud, spirited, and unyielding, no matter how fierce the storm is. Yet tonight, he endured grievance for my sake. Thank you for standing against the world for me. Even if everyone blames you, you remain unshakable in my heart.]

Rebecca let out a bitter laugh and tapped to dislike the note, hoping it wouldn’t appear again. Fortunately, she had never competed with Catherine for her position in Vance’s heart. Otherwise, it would have been a complete and utter defeat.

Vance treated his career like his life. Yet he could so effortlessly abandon a major cooperation just because Catherine was upset, and he did it with such determination.

In Catherine’s words, he was going against the whole world for her, guarding her like a tower.

Rebecca assumed Vance wouldn’t return home that night, but he did after she had fallen asleep in the

guest room.

She believed he wouldn’t disturb her, not after she blew off his big deal, if he insisted on shifting the

blame onto her.

But she was wrong.

He tried the door, only to find it locked. He knocked, but she didn’t answer.

Frustrated, he knocked harder. “Rebecca, do you think a door in my own house can keep me out?”

He was not bluffing. If he wanted to, he could knock it down with one blow. But that was unnecessary.

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There was no alcohol on his breath. Instead, he carried the damp scent of the neighborhood lake’s night mist, with a stray leaf clinging to his shoulder.

“This is my home, and you’re my wife. Do I need a reason to come in?” His eyes were bloodshot, with

“That’s your reaction?” He followed her in. “My project fell through, and this is how you respond? Do you know how many nights I stayed up, how many meetings I held, and how many versions of the project proposal I drafted? And this is your reaction?” 1

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